Following the Meyerson and Quicksilver concerts the weekend before, I returned to Stanford the Tuesday after for this concert to make this the most fanatical early music concert experience to date. Harpsichordist friend Michael and his high school keyboard teacher also came up all the way from Monterey, while I invited some other interested friends to join the concert. Such an occasion called for a celebration, and we did so by having dinner together at Pastis in downtown Palo Alto.

Maestro Wieland
Kuijken is past retirement age, and he's made it clear that this U.S. trip would be his last. It was at the strong urging of former student John Dornenburg, renowned Bay Area gamba player, that he agreed to hold this concert. Although Kuijken does not draw nearly the crowd that Savall manages to do, a "U.S. farewell concert" from one of the pioneering figures of early music is bound to attract a significant audience at Stanford's Memorial Church.

Normally the early music concerts I've attended at the church have been held in the side chapel at the transept. This is because the small reflective acoustic space is ideal for the likes of early music instruments. However, due to the large turnout, they had to move the concert to the nave. Well, with a church of such considerable space and combine that with the quiet viola da gambas and harpsichord, you have the perfect recipe for disaster. The large space practically guarantees that the sound has decayed out by the time it reaches any of the walls or ceiling, and instead of getting a good enhancing diffuse sound field, it's more like being in a large anechoic chamber (those test chambers that absorbs most of the sound). If you weren't sitting close enough to the performers, you might as well get up and walk out. Imagine trying to watch a movie on an iPhone, 10 meters (~30 feet) away....

The program naturally focused on music written specifically for the viola da gamba. St. Colombe and Marais are arguably the two most key figures of French viol music. For the Germanic region, we have Kuhnel (1645－1700) from Germany and Schenck (1660－1712) from the Netherlands, the latter being the more well-known today.

The first three pieces of the first half are written for two gambas without bass continuo. The Kuhnel sonata is typical of mid-Baroque German form, containing two lyrical aria and variations segments. The St. Colombe piece is a French suite, with the opening character piece being the title of the entire piece. Le retour (return) refers to the reappearance of themes in the piece. It is followed by a series of short dances. The Schenck chaconne is the last movement of his 11th sonata from his opus 8 collection titled Le Nymphe di Rheno (The Nymphs of the Rhine), a common variational form. Of the three pieces, only St. Colombe seemingly adopts a contrapuntal texture, where both gambas are truly given independent lines. In the Kuhnel and Schenck pieces, the gambas take turns playing the melody and accompaniment.

The Marais pieces of the second half have added continuo parts. There is a suite for two gambas and continuo, and the tombeau is written for gamba and continuo. In the latter one, Kuijken joins Tanaka in doubling the continuo line. Normally I prefer Marais's viol music over St. Colombe, but this suite didn't seem to delight me as much. The tombeau, on the other hand, was the ideal idiomatic piece for gamba. Its dark and sombre timbre has come to be the perfect medium, whether it be mourning or a means to establish communication with the dead.

The last pieces of both halves were joined by Eve Legene on the recorder, a Telemann quartet and a Vivaldi trio sonata. These pieces are Italian in nature, which is what I would call a more direct and familiar listening experience. The Telemann quartet is scored for two concert violas, and although technically "playable" on the gamba, is simply not idiomatic for the instrument. This is evidenced by Kuijken and Dornenburg trudging through their parts, impeding the flow of a piece that would have been uplifting. The Vivaldi trio sonata is the same piece they played two years ago at the conservatory. I know this piece well, as it's also the first ensemble piece I learned after harpsichord lessons. Maybe I would have liked to hear a different piece played this night, but then again, this is a piece that I do like, and it did end up being the favorite piece of the concert.

Like Marais's tombeau, Kuijken partnered up with Tanaka on the continuo line, while Dorenburg tackled the at-times tricky bass voice (could be played by either the bassoon, cello, or gamba). To me, this gesture symbolized and signaled the complete passing of the torch from Kuijken to his students.

In the few occasions of hearing Kuijken, other than that stiff mean appearance, he's always struck me as honest, down-to-earth type, not one who likes to show-off and hog the spotlight. He's equally comfortable playing the supporting continuo as he is in a solo role, but more importantly, for him it's always about the music and not him. On the stage, there's no early music diva, but simply a musician who wants to share music of the distant past with those who are interested.

Below is a video of an interview of the Kuijken brothers (two of them also prominent early musicians), where they talk about their music upbringing and their approach and ideas to early music, which I found quite illuminating.